Perceptions
by xLix
Summary: How do you know what you see is real? Does everyone see the world in the same way you do? Lilly reflects on her friendship with Miley, but is she just lying to herself? LILEY!


Hey there! I know I've been MIA for some time now and most of you probably think I'll never get around to finish my multi-chapter story. I want to tell you that that project was not abandoned and is being worked on. It's just that lately, some personal issues have affected my life in a way that I feel would taint the story I want to tell in _**I can't pretend that I don't see**_** you**.

I'll keep working on it, but I needed a break. This oneshot wouldn't leave me be until I wrote it down. It's pretty short and not my usual kind of work, so it was quite an interesting piece to write. **Please let me know what you think of it!**

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I'm going to lie and I hope you will listen.

Perhaps lie is not the right word to describe it, but you should be aware that I'm virtually incapable of being honest with you, and myself, for that matter. Everything we perceive on a daily basis is a lie, something between a horror story and a fairytale, and it's our own brain telling us the story. It's one of these mind-boggling theories and facts scientists come up with every day and the thought fascinates me. It has haunted me since I've first heard about this. How do you know if what you see is real? Does everyone see the world in the same way you do?

My brain is a master storyteller. It tells me there's a story between me and Miley, and whatever happens, I'll be the last person to correct it. The thing is, I depend on these stories. The hope of a glance with a hidden meaning, a smile – a smile that's meant just for me and no one else. I want to believe in that, and actually, I do. I do believe that. I know I'm lying to myself, don't tell me that. I'm also lying to the whole world.

You see, life for me has been pretty much ordinary and uneventful. Of course, there are always small things, but as of now, no major tragedy has ever occurred in the few years I walk on this planet. Seventeen, to be exact.

Some people would argue that my parent's divorce is a huge deal which I shouldn't shrug off the way I do, but I really feel like it's not affecting me at all. Maybe I'm just blind because there's something on my mind that leaves no place for anything else but, maybe, I'm just telling the truth. It's how I feel. I'm in no position to complain about life, yet I do, and I will. Please bear with me.

I never thought I would be one of these kids agonizing over unrequited love. I never thought I would let something as silly as feelings have such a huge impact on my life. If I've learnt anything in the past years, it's that you shouldn't be quick to judge. Life's full of surprises, and you might end up becoming exactly the kind of person you never wanted to be, and sometimes, you'll never want to go back to what you were. What I gained is much too precious to waste or regret. I opened my eyes, caught sight of her.

"It was terrible! I don't know why I agreed to the date in the first place, but I would've thought he had some manners. Apparently, I was wrong," she tells me as we are walking to class. Her face, contorted into a frown, is radiating her emotions and thoughts. Miley isn't one to keep it hidden, unlike me. She's so different from me, and she trusts me infinitely that it hurts sometimes. It's one of these privileges I get from being her best friend. She tells me about her life, her thoughts, her dreams and aspirations. Not many get to know her this way. You don't know how grateful I am for this fact.

"Oh Miles, I hate seeing you so disappointed and hurt every time a guy doesn't treat you the way you deserve," I say. A smile flickers over her gracious and fine features but she refuses to look at me. She's not ready to let go of her frustration just yet. Knowing Miley, that was to be expected. She'll brood over it for half the school day, and no matter how much I tell her that these guys don't deserve her, she will fall for one of them again in a couple of weeks. I almost sigh.

She tells me he was angry at her because she refused to kiss him after the date had ended. What a moron! A girl like Miley isn't one to rush. How could he have had so little appreciation and respect for her, I wonder. Actually, it's not really a surprise for me. The way I see Miley is different from the way the guys see her. She's really pretty – no, beautiful. When she smiles, it feels like the day just brightened considerably, as if the sunrise had just cast a beam of light over the surroundings. They see that, too. How could anyone not notice her perfect body, her lush hair and soft skin?

For me, it's even more. It's highly subjective, a construction of my mind. My brain telling a story. She's the princess with the delicate skin, soft hair and extremely fragile constitution, just waiting to be cherished. It's in these moments I really doubt my own sanity. What, am I some sort of knight now or what? Silly, I know.

My point is that others don't see her like I do. They won't and they can't. Maybe they are better off that way because I do see her like _that_ and it's often just another reason to hurt, because I see and they don't and she doesn't either. Even if I tried to stop it, I couldn't. I can't help it. Believe me, I've tried to get myself together, it just doesn't work. Perhaps it's because my heart is not really into it. I don't really want to try and be successful and become just like everyone else. It feels oddly comforting to know there's someone in this world who thinks of her like that. She's Miley Stewart, not Hannah Montana. She's Miley, my best friend, an extremely sweet girl with a good heart, not just a hot chick to lust after. She's Miley. She's home.

All of her little mannerisms are so incredibly familiar; sometimes I think I know her better than I know myself. Seriously, when it comes to myself, I am often clueless. It took me long enough to realize that my best friend evoked some more than friendly feelings. I've spent the past few years noticing her and her habits. Being with Miley, talking, or rather, hearing her talk while just listening to her soft voice; it feels like coming home. It's as if my safe haven lay within her, calling out to me, luring me but always out of my reach.

"What about you?"

I start. Immersed in my own pitiful thoughts, I tuned her out completely. She stops and turns to face me. Hey eyes, bright blue, open and honest, pierce directly into mine. A shiver shakes my body.

"Me?" I ask in a small voice. I have no idea what she's talking about.

I see how her eyes narrow, suspicious. She's not exactly bad at reading me either.

"Yeah… I know that it didn't work out between you and Oliver, even though I don't know why. He seemed to really like you. So, how are things with Matt?"

I wish I could stop pretending. I want to tell her the truth. That it didn't work out with Oliver because I can't love him like he wants me to and how he deserves to be loved. That I'm not pushing harder with Matt because I have no interest in him. He might be good-looking and a nice person, but I strive for more. I want to experience true love between two soul-mates sharing a bond. I'm a hopelessly romantic and extremely naïve, you might say.

"There's nothing going on between us, Miley," I clarify. It's not the untruth.

For a second, a shadow passes behind her eyes and I can't place it. Odd, I'm so used to knowing and guessing every thought she has it irks and disturbs me that I don't know what she's thinking now. Her face is blank, unreadable and without emotions. Only her eyes are so full of life I can't stop staring. Suddenly, I become painfully aware of the small distance between us. She's so close… I just have to reach out and I could touch her. She's there, right now.

Then, the moment is gone.

"You sure you're telling me the truth? You know you can trust me," she says, her voice disclosing a trace of hurt.

I reach out, take her hand. I crave her touch, and these seconds of contact are precious to me. I keep them in my mind and in my heart, knowing that this kind of intimacy we have, being best friends, is more than most people get.

"No, really. I'm not dating Matt. It's nothing." I try to keep my voice from shaking. It comes out wrong. It's high-pitched, my nervousness clearly transpiring.

Miley doesn't seem convinced. I cannot blame her. I wish she would just drop the whole topic, though. We're already late to class.

She squeezes my hand. "Don't you think, though?" She pauses and tightens her hold on my hand. It's killing me. I don't answer. I don't want to think anything these days. My thoughts are dangerous and unwanted, out of my control. They have a life of their own.

"You have incredible chemistry, "she adds, hoping for some reaction.

I know what she's getting at. I pretend not to. I want to believe she's holding my hand because she needs the contact as much as I do. As I said, my perception of reality is hardly correct. I construct my own reality.

Then, she speaks the words, putting an end to the story. "Don't you think he'd be the perfect boyfriend for you, Lilly?"

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. Hard, crushing, painful.

"Yeah, you're right," I say, vaguely.

I know it's a lie. She's mistaken. He wouldn't be perfect for me; she would. She's the one I want. I don't say anything, though. Instead, I avert my gaze.

"Oh Lilly, you're in love, aren't you?" she asks, suddenly excited.

My heart is pounding and it's hard to breathe.

"Yes, Miley. I am."

She obviously thinks I love Matt. I don't even try to correct her.

I told you I was a liar. That was me telling the truth for once.


End file.
